The Gospel According to Scorpius
by grammarslash
Summary: Post DH, post epilogue. Spoilers I suppose. Albus Severus and Scorpius's years at Hogwarts. Do you see the sneakiness and whatnot? Chaptered fiction, inprogress. Will hopefully become slashy. We'll see. ACCOMPANIMENT TO DIGNIFIED MADMAN'S. Look it up!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Gospel According to Scorpius  
**Rating: **So far very G. Mmhmm good.  
**Author's Notes:** And so it begins.

And I would've titled this 'The Gospel According to a Preteen Sociopath' but I was not allowed. I am sorry.

* * *

It was likely the worst moment of my short life. 

Quite short, to be honest. I would have laughed at my own pathetic joke, but I'd rather not taint the misconceptions any further.

As a Malfoy, there are certain things that I am expected to be, such as tall, white-blonde, and lean. Of those, I would be tall for a midget, blond_ish_ and to be lean I would need to possess muscle.

"Don't be worried," my mother said. "Don't show fear. You're a Malfoy, after all." I rolled my eyes at my mother's favourite phrase. Keep your feet off the table; you're a Malfoy. Don't mumble; you're a Malfoy. Jump off that cliff; you're a Malfoy. She began to number off the rules of etiquette that I was to obey while at Hogwarts. I stared off to the left of her head, tuning out her speech; I'd heard it enough times to recite along with her. There was a boy, my age, possibly even my height, looking fearful and self-conscious. A man whom I assumed was his father, if the matching hair was anything to go by, was standing with a hand on his shoulder. As worried as the boy looked, the father was confident in his actions and appeared to be whispering words of encouragement.

My own father followed my gaze and spoke. Due to his silent nature, which I had inherited from him, when he spoke, people listened. "Don't get too close," my father whispered gruffly. "Our kind doesn't do well with the Potters." Had I not trained myself to refrain from showing unnecessary emotion, I felt sure my mouth would have dropped into an 'o'. _Oh_, my brain said anyway, _those are the __**Potters**_. Then the father must've been _Harry_. The Saviour of the Wizarding World. The reason why my father was the way he was. No longer snooty, by anyone's standards, and this boy's father was why. There was a call from the conductor and I nodded solemnly to my father before boarding the train.

Inside, people yelled across the way, greeting one another joyfully. I searched in vain for a quiet place to sit, but there was no where to be found. In a nearby compartment I heard a voice say happily, "Alright, Al, mum and dad are out of the way now, off to your own compartment." I walked by, peering in surreptitiously. I saw the nervous boy from before staring pitifully at another boy, likely his brother. I hurried away, not wanting to get involved, and settled into an empty place near the front of the train. I searched for a book in my bag and began to read.

Not too long after, there was a soft knock on the compartment door. I opened it and saw the 'Al' boy close to tears. His eyes were quite… _green_. They would have been frighteningly so had his glasses not taken away some of the affect. "Do you mind-" he hiccoughed "-if I join you?"

I shifted nervously; this was getting too emotional for me. But my mother's words stayed with me so I moved back to my seat to allow him to enter. He blinked; surprised, but noticing his good fortune he quickly made use of it.

"Thankyouverymuch," he breathed, all one word as though he couldn't bear to say more.

"Shut the door," I said hoarsely; I was not used to speaking.

He complied and I went back to my reading. It was not long before his sniffling ceased and he began to fidget. He shifted restlessly in his seat, leg jiggling along with some unheard rhythm, glancing out the window every thirty seconds or so. And I gave up.

"Do you have a mental disorder?" I asked politely from behind my book.

He stopped for a moment, looking at me curiously, before starting up again. "I don't think so," he breathed again. I was beginning to think that this was merely the way he spoke. "I mean," -he breathed again, and slowly his voice gained strength and volume- "_I_ don't think so, but maybe I do. I don't know. Should I take a test? Do they have tests? What kind of tests?" He gasped. "Do they _hurt_?"

I blinked at him slowly before my eye caught and twitched. This would be a long train-ride.

* * *

**Author's Notes the Second: **This is a collaborative project. I'll be writing the odd chapters, written from dear ol' Scorpius' P.O.V. And Dignified Madman will be be doing the even chapters, from Albus Severus' P.O.V. That means that there are two places to watch. So watch you must. Hurrah. (And I will continue 'The Almost Seduction' soon enough, I swear.) 

Did you catch the highlighting?


	2. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Yes, you should check over on Dignified Madman's page for even updates.

* * *

I flinched as I sat on the stool with that _Hat_ on my head.

_Please_, I found myself begging. _Please not Slytherin_.

The hat scoffed (it actually scoffed) and said, _Who do you think you are, a __**Potter**_?

"Slytherin!" It screeched, and there was not a flicker of surprise from any student in the Great Hall that a _Malfoy_ was in Slytherin. I arranged my features to betray nothing, though I was furious. _Slytherin?_ I had done my best to be polite, to be kind to people, to be so utterly _un_Slytherin, but of course it was all in vain. Why should I have expected anything else; Malfoys don't deserve second chances.

I took my place at the Slytherin table, and I was met with a few rather cold expressions. I did not blame them. While their parents had battled alongside the Dark Lord, my father had abandoned him in his final hour. Surprisingly, though, there were a few genuine smiles to greet me as I looked around. I tentatively returned them and looked to the front of the hall. Several more students were sorted: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor. And then there was the boy from the train.

"Albus Severus Potter," the sinister woman announced, and he stepped toward the stool nervously. Perhaps it was just his fidgety nature shining through. That _Hat_ was placed on his head and the Gryffindors had huge, knowing smiles plastered on their faces, hands poised to clap. Albus Severus continued to sit upon the stool; a likely Gryffindor to be whose likelihood was diminishing by the second. A moment before anyone had an aneurysm due to poorly restrained glee; the Hat shouted "Slytherin!" and someone at the Hufflepuff table slumped over in a dead faint with nothing but a thump to acknowledge it. There was a smattering of applause from the Slytherin table before all was silent again.

"A Potter in Slytherin?" A voice carried across the hall. "_Harry Potter's son?_"

A storm of conversation followed the comment as well as Albus Severus, himself, as he sat down beside me.

"Hello," he said quietly, leg twitching. The students beside us shot him incredulous glances, barely trying to conceal it.

"Hello," I replied, watching the rest of the children in our year get sorted; they deserved some attention.

When the last student had been sorted and met with distracted clapping, a woman rose from the teacher's table and the room fell completely silent. She was thin, tall and had a stern air about her. The word 'pointed' sprang to mind.

"And so we begin," she declared with a brisk tone and accent. "I am Professor McGonagall and I am the current headmistress here at Hogwarts. Hopefully, I will not being seeing you too often" –here she singled out several students in a way that would have been called mocking if she had not been the one to do it- "in which case, we will get along well enough. Most of the rules here should be _common sense_, but for the ones that might not be, they are posted in your house common rooms." Her crisp manner truly was something to be admired, I decided.

Albus Severus turned to me and whispered quickly, "I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name! What is it?"

His large green eyes blinked at me curiously and I was reminded disturbingly of a young canine begging for scraps. I told him and he paused for a moment, trying to recall my surname and why it likely sounded familiar. I noted the shock on his face and how openly he displayed it. I was aware that, as a Potter, he might not want anything to do with me, but, as a Slytherin, he would be forced to. I did not want him attempting to befriend me without knowing what he would be getting into.

Food appeared in front of us and I realized that Professor McGonagall had finished her speech. Voices roared around us and conversation started up again.

"Isn't the roof _amazing_? How do they make it _do_ that? I hope that's the sort of magic we'll be learning…" He trailed off before gazing at me fearfully. "What if I can't do it? Will they expel me? Will they tell my parents?"

I cleared my throat while filling my plate, "I'm sure you'll be-"

"I don't know what this is," he interrupted, peering at a plate of food with intent.

"Vegetables?" I responded feebly.

The conversation continued in such a manner until dessert ("It's so _sweet_! I really like this dish; I could eat it all the time! What _is_ it?") which was not nearly as lengthy as the main course. I found that I needn't interrupt his flow of thought for he would continue regardless of whether or not I intervened.

The strangest thing, though, was that I could not help but find it… _endearing_. The thought disoriented me, but I pushed it aside.

We were soon directed to the Slytherin dorms, down in the dungeons, where no natural light could find its way without the help of explosives. Albus Severus grew oddly silent and even twitchier than before in the darkness of the corridors.

"Staphylococcus," a prefect told the Old Crone's portrait. She cackled and moved the portrait aside. Albus Severus shivered and drew closer to me. I had not been aware that I was a comforting life form, but Albus Severus seemed to think otherwise.


	3. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Why hallo thar.

* * *

We trudged along the well-worn path to Herbology, Albus Severus sticking closely to my side. Though our group of Slytherins appeared at a glance to be an elitist mob of first years, careful inspection would show their disdain for the Dark Lord's deserter and the defective Potter.

Oblivious, Albus Severus prattled on. My ears wept.

"Are you excited yet? I realize it might've taken some time to sink in that we're finally at Hogwarts; you were probably just stunned. It's okay though, I understand. Did you know that my uncle Neville teaches Herbology? My parents told my brother and me to give him love, but I think it's weird to give a professor love when you're at school. I don't know if I should do it anyway, because my mum will find out if I don't and I'll get a howler and then-"

I wondered vaguely if my mother's rules of decorum applied to Potters.

I cast a sidelong glance at my chattering companion and quickly dismissed the voice inside my head. With his rampant curiosity and wide-eyed wonder, this Potter was nothing like the supposed savior of the wizarding world. Where Harry Potter was known for his self-righteous attitude and distinctive arrogance, it seemed his son was merely uncertain and eager to please.

At home, I would have been advised to use this weakness to my advantage; at Hogwarts, I intended to milk my freedom for all its worth.

I tuned back into the younger Potter's diatribe: "And it's positively _mad_ at my grandmum's during Christmas, but maybe it's because of her truffles. Have you ever had truffles? I'll bring you some of my grandmum's; my aunt Hermione says they're enough to rot your teeth straight out of your mouth."

Thankfully, I was spared responding during this unexpected break by our arrival at Professor Longbottom's greenhouse. At least, I was forced to conclude that the figure waiting patiently just outside the conservatory was the 'Uncle Neville' about whom I'd just endured a lengthy eulogy.

He was a porky fellow, round about the face with wrinkles already beginning to emerge around his eyes. He seemed to me an entirely forgettable type of man, willing to give others the spotlight when it was his due; he was exactly the sort of person Harry Potter would look for in a friend.

He smiled warmly at us and ushered us into the greenhouse. I glanced around and saw the Ravenclaw students, already sitting neatly around the large table, their pens poised for efficient note taking. I allowed myself to recognize the small pang in my chest as self-pity and shoved it away. I sat across from the other house's students and Albus Severus hurried to squeeze in beside me as the man at the front introduced himself as Professor Longbottom. As he spoke, I studied his clear manner; he seemed confident without conceit, a trait I'd rarely seen before. His voice was strong and firm as he read out the attendance list.

"Bones, Simon?"

"Here," a small, roan haired boy raised his hand.

"Clearwater, Angela?"

"Present," a thin Ravenclaw primly called.

"That's my cousin," Albus Severus whispered loudly. "We don't really talk much because she's 'a strange' relation. At least, that's what my parents said. I don't really know what that means."

Professor Longbottom made his way through the list, smiling at the names he recognized, until he reached mine. His confident grin dimmed and his eyes darted around the room.

"M-malfoy, Scorpius?"

Obviously, Professor Longbottom had suffered through my father at his prime. I was aware of my father's reputation for being an impudent bully, but I'd viewed it as an unrealistic dream of my mother's. She'd claimed he'd been self-sure and haughty, and those were traits she admired in a man. By her account, he was known for his snide remarks and superior attitude; I still couldn't believe that of the man I called my father. I knew him to be self-absorbed, surely, but not to be outright rude; grandmother Narcissa would have had his head if she'd known he'd disregarded the rules of polite society for even a moment.

I lifted my hand wearily and felt Albus Severus sit up straighter beside me.

"It's alright!" he called out. "He's really nice once you get to know him! You don't have to worry about him at _all_, Professor; he won't pick on you or_ anything_!"

I felt a bubble of laughter rise up in my chest before smothering it. Apparently he'd heard the same rumors as me. As he assured the older man that I was harmless, I began to wonder why he was defending me.

Perhaps, I thought, I'd made a friend.


End file.
